he mate, smiling. "But look there, I must have that."

He pointed over the side to where a handsome little roe-deer had come
trotting forward away from some half-dozen companions which had halted
and were gazing wonderingly at the brig, while the one which had
advanced, evidently more daring or more carried away by curiosity, came
on and on till it was about fifty yards from the vessel. Here it stood
at gaze, so beautiful a specimen of an animal, that Oliver felt,
naturalist though he was, and eager to collect, it would be a pity to
destroy so lovely a creature's life.

There it stood in full view, profoundly ignorant of the fact that its
life was in danger, while the mate hurriedly exchanged the shot
cartridge in one of the chambers of the gun for a bullet. Then, laying
the barrel of his gun upon the bulwark in an opening between two pieces
of the sailcloth rigged up for defence, he said, softly,--

"This skin will do for a specimen, too, won't it?"

"Yes, of course," said Oliver, eagerly.

"That's right, sir, and it has a beautiful head."

He took careful aim as he spoke.

"That's dead on the shoulder," he said, softly, and then he fired, the
young men having the satisfaction of seeing the little buck go bounding
away like the wind after its companions, who went off at the flash of
the gun.

"Missed him," said Panton, rather contemptuously.

"Couldn't have missed," said the mate, sharply. "I took such careful
aim. Wait a moment or two, and you'll see it drop. It was a dead
shot."

"Then you didn't kill its legs, too," said Oliver; "they're lively
enough. How the little thing can run."

"I tell you it's a dead roe-buck," said the mate, sharply.

"Then why does it keep on running?" said Panton.

"That's the vitality left in it," said the mate. "It will soon drop.
I'll go after it at once. It can't run far."

As he was speaking he hurriedly threw open the breech of his piece and
drew out the discharged cartridge.

"Hullo!" he cried.

"What's the matter?" said Oliver.

"Well, hang it all!"

"Why don't you speak?"

"It's enough to make any man speak," cried the mate, angrily. "Don't
you see this is only a blue cartridge and number six shot? I pulled the
wrong trigger. Here's the bullet cartridge in the other barrel."

"Then you only tickled the buck," said Panton, laughing. "Why, at fifty
yards that shot wouldn't go through the skin."

"Humph!" said the mate, "so much the better for